


Contrition

by peterickster (enochiancass)



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, College AU, Fluff, M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 21:21:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7590874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enochiancass/pseuds/peterickster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the college au where also some of them are werewolves<br/>(wip)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contrition

**Author's Note:**

> this started out as a story for my writing class and i decided to just go ahead and make it into this
> 
> Title taken from House of Wolves by My Chemical Romance 
> 
> This story is fictional and is only based off of real people

Frank isn't a bad student. He doesn't ditch class or actively not do his homework and his grades have always been above average thank-you-very-much. So when he gets a text from Pete at 12:21pm the Sunday after Thanksgiving break asking him if he's ready for tomorrow's exam in Global Humanities and it takes Frank a sad five minutes to remember what his friend is talking about, it throws Frank off a bit. In fact, he's pretty sure he goes through all five stages of grieving.  
1. Denial  
Frank: dude ur lying to me there is no test tomorrow  
Pete: dude its wrtten in my planner. in UR handwriting 2  
Frank: y wud i write in ur planner  
Pete: bc u said my handwrtng was so bad u wantd to scratch ur eyes out nd u knew id forget abt the test othrwise  
2. Anger  
Frank is admittedly short-tempered on occasion so it’s not very surprising how quickly he transitioned from denial to anger.  
He flings his phone across the room in frustration and although the loud "thwack!" it makes against the wall is extremely satisfying, he regrets it immediately. Even though he has already been planning on getting himself a new phone, he still now possibly has to live without one until then.  
With a huff, he drags himself across the room and winces when he sees the damage. The screen is completely shattered, a large shard now all that remains attached to the phone. Fuck his stupid ducking brain and his stupid fucking anger issues and, apparently, his newly developed short-term fucking memory loss.  
He leaves his bedroom to retrieve the dustpan from the kitchenette and ignores the speculative look he gets from his roommate, Brendon.  
"You okay there, buddy?" Brendon asks in amused concern. "Remember what your therapist said about counting to ten."  
Frank narrows his eyes at his asshole of a best friend. Sometimes he wonders how he ever agreed that it was a good idea to rent an apartment with Brendon, but then he remembers Brendon's rich aunt who pays their rent. Also, he can be funny when he's not being an asshole. "Asshole."  
Brendon just shrugs, turning back to whatever he's doing on his laptop. Probably operating a Sinatra fan account if Frank is being honest with himself.  
Frank hears Brendon's phone ring from where he's searching the cabinets for the dust pan, along with Brendon's subsequent "Hey, Pete."  
This inspires Frank to quicken his search and once he finds it, he tries to be incognito in his journey back to his room so he doesn’t get roped into one of Brendon and Petes's Juvenile Arguments Which Frank Always Ends Up Moderating.  
When he hears Brendon's "Of course I'm ready for the exam tomorrow, Ive been studying all week!" he stops dead in his tracks. He can feel the anger flaring back up and he tries his best to push it back down. He does not count to ten because he’s not a fucking three-year-old, instead, he thinks about David Bowie, dogs, and everything nice until he felt like a person again.  
Then, he immediately snatches the phone from Brendon's ear.  
"What do you mean you've been studying all week!?" Frank exclaims in frustration, "We binge-watched Avatar together twice and you spent every other waking moment with Ryan!"  
"Well yeah, Ryan is in our Global Humanities course. We were studying."  
"You mean you were actually studying?"  
"Yes?" Brendon says, raising one eyebrow. "What else would I have meant when I said 'Hey Frank, I'm going over to Ryan's place to study."  
Franks shrugs, "I thought you two were finally fucking."  
Brendon's face immediately turns a very alarming shade of pink. Frank has no idea why Brendon refuses to acknowledge the fact that he is in love with Ryan Ross. He has no problem with making doe eyes and/or constantly talking about said Ryan Ross and Frank has been painfully watching the two dance around each other for months.  
Brendon elects to ignore this statement.  
"So… Pete told me you forgot about the exam?"  
"I don't wanna talk about it," Frank sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I need to pass this fucking class if I still want to graduate early and I have a C right now and god that teacher hates me how the fucking fuck did I fuck up this bad?"  
Brendon rushes over from his spot on the couch and envelopes Frank into a tight hug, shushing him and murmuring comforts into his ear. It reminds Frank of when he would have bad anxiety attacks his freshman year in the dorms and Brendon would stay up all night comforting him. His heart swells with the gratitude he has for Brendon. He honestly doesn't know if he would have been able to manage college without him. Sure, he has Pete, but he can barely manage his own emotional breakdowns, let alone Frank's.  
"Thanks, Bren." he says when he's calmed down.  
"Hey, that’s what best friends are for."  
That’s when both Frank and Brendon are reminded that Pete is still on the phone when they both hear his protest of "Fuck you, Brendon I'm his best friend!"  
Brendon's arm shoots out quicker than a bolt of lightning to grab the phone so he can yell "In your fucking dreams you soggy walnut!" right into the phone's speaker.  
Frank takes this as his cue to scramble back to his room and slowly slide down against the inside of his door with a sigh. He still felt like he had a pot of anger boiling on the back-burner of his mind, but it was starting to settle down. He cleans up the glass from his phone and flops into bed, staring up at his ceiling.  
3. Bargaining  
Frank isn't religious. He stopped believing in God around the same time he stopped believing in Santa Claus, which made going to Catholic school pretty awkward. Still, Frank somehow ends up with his grandmother's old rosary in his hand, staring up at his ceiling. Of course, he's aware how pathetic it is that it took the prospect of him failing a class to turn to this option; but on the other hand that doesn't matter because he doesn't really believe anyway. Still, he figures he could use all the luck he can get, so on the off chance he's wrong and the Big Guy really is up there, he might as well try.  
But the thing is, he never felt comfortable praying to God. Even when he did believe in him. There was just something so intimidating to his six-year-old self about a man who supposedly controlled his destiny. So instead, he often found himself praying to The Virgin Mary. There was something his younger self had found comforting about her and even now that he doesn't believe she still exists as a sentient being, she still represents hope to him.  
He never actually gets around to praying, instead just lying on his bed, fingering the beads of his grandmother's rosary. He remembers her disappointment when he had told her he didn't believe. His whole family had a tough time accepting it, but his grandmother had been the only one who was glad to see him go because of it. They've made up since then but it certainly had not helped his stress levels his freshman year when he was being told he did not belong in their family anymore.  
4. Depression  
That train of thought always leads Frank down the same path. He's never really felt like he belonged. Growing up the only atheist he knew and making the mistake of not staying in the closet at least until he was out of Catholic school made for a hard time making friends. Of course, his grandmother hadn't helped with this. In fact, she had pretty much just undone Frank's therapy, then sent him off to freshman year of college with an invigorated sense of insecurity.  
Even though he was, as he said before, not religious, he thanks God daily for his mother. She had always been so understanding and he wouldn't have made it to college without her. He wouldn't have made it further than that without Pete and Brendon.  
Yet he still sometimes feels that hole in his stomach, slowly eating him from inside. On the outside, it may look like he's pretty put together; graduating early with a major in economics, friends who love him, a family that supports him, but for some reason he just can't picture himself being happy the way his life is going now. He's usually the last person to ask for change but he really needs something to be different or he's going to be swallowed whole by this pit in his stomach.  
5. Acceptance  
According to the clock on his nightstand, it was now 3pm and Frank really couldn't just lay there and mope all day, he should at least try to study for the exam.  
He grabs a jacket and slips into his converse, deciding; maybe he'd go to the coffee shop right across from campus to try to get some studying done. His backpack is in front of the door and he grabs it on his way out, calling to Brendon, who was now in his room, that he'd be back later tonight or “more likely the ass crack of dawn!"  
He doesn't wait for Brendon to reply as he heads out for the five minute walk to his favorite coffee shop. The cold nips at him as soon as the door shuts and he slips on his fingerless gloves. Once again he wonders why he can’t just buy normal gloves and spare his fingertips death. Either way, his jacket pockets are warm enough and not long after he's left his apartment, he's made it to the refuge that is Moonbean Coffee. He blushes when he sees that the cute barista is working right now and keeps his head down as he heads straight to his usual table in the corner. He seems to be the only one here to study which is why he likes this place so much. It’s always a lot less crowded than any of the coffee joints actually on the campus and it’s barely even that much longer of a walk, especially since Frank barely lives on campus anyways.  
Once he gets his stuff settled he goes over to the counter to actually order.  
"The usual?" The barista, Gerard, asks.  
"Yes, please," he replies with a tiny nod, fighting back the blush that threatens to spill on to his face. He doesn't even know what the fuck his body is blushing at, considering the guy literally only said two words to him. He's just so goddamned cute with his eyes that are brown, unless the light shines through them; then they're green. Not to mention, that fucking batman t-shirt under his apron and the way he talks out of the side of his mouth and wow, Frank is fucked.  
Somehow, he manages to get his drink and get back to his table without becoming a blubbering mess. He figures if he works until closing time at midnight that gives him 8 1/2 hours or so to study.  
Three hours and three coffees in, Frank is unbelievably thankful he took such good notes. He has managed to transfer about half of the material into notecards and is fairly confident he can manage at least a high C to low B on the test. In fact, he feels good enough to order a fourth drink and allow himself to spend half an hour chatting with the cute barista because fuck you, he's earned it.  
As time draws closer and closer to midnight, he starts to feel better and better about the exam. There are a few areas he's a bit rough on, but by the time Gerard kicks him out of the coffee shop to close up; he's reassured he can at least pass the class.  
He’s walking back to his apartment, running through some of the information he needs a little more work remembering, when he hears a rustling in the bushes up ahead. He isn't scared at first, assuming it’s a cat or maybe a small dog, except then he hears the growling. Frank may not be any sort of animal expert, but he's pretty sure he knows what growling means. So obviously, that’s when he starts running.

\-------

When Frank wakes up, the first thing he notices is a massive headache. He tries to think back to the night before for the source of his ailment, but there's nothing. The last thing he can remember is walking home from the coffee shop, so it’s not like he's hungover. He rolls over to check his alarm clock and freezes because where his nightstand should be, there is nothing but forest floor. He shoots up in panic and tries to calm down as he takes in his surroundings. He is in the middle of the forest. He looks down at himself to see his clothing in tatters, what’s left of it anyway. He has half of a shirt, the waistband of his pants, and his boxers (thank God) left, but both of his shoes are gone and there is a long, fading scar on his calf that he doesn't remember having.  
The sunlight pouring in through the trees lets him know it was close to noon, which means he has most definitely missed his 7am exam. He fucking missed. His. Fucking. Exam. He groans in frustration and his brains reels at how this happened. Waking up in the forest practically naked is one thing, but missing the exam he stayed up late to study for and now having to try to explain the situation to the Professor-On-A-Stick is going to be a whole new level of miserable.  
Franks head snaps up when he hears a rustling from the bushes, and a heavy feeling of dread settles over him. He gets a dim Déjà vu-like feeling and very faintly remembers part of his, apparently unsuccessful, walk home last night. A bush rustling. A Growl. He remembers hearing about a freshman being attacked by wild dogs after getting wasted on Halloween and a sophomore the week after. Wouldn’t that just be the cherry on top of this amazing day Frank is having.  
He hears a low, snarling growl and tries to locate the sound, which he immediately regrets when he finds a pair of golden eyes staring back at him. Before he knows what he's doing, he's off the ground and getting the heck out of there. He didn't think he had ever run so fast in his life, especially without his inhaler and especially considering how long it has been since he's even tried to workout. Although, even after five minutes of being chased through the trees, he's barely sweating, which he would've found strange if he wasn't so focused on running for his life.  
He finally makes it to civilization, and by civilization he means the strip mall about a block away from Pete's apartment. He has no idea how he ended up here, here being a good ten-minute drive from his apartment, but at least he's still in Jersey. He can only imagine waking up in some forest two states away. Not that that wouldn't be just his luck.  
He really doesn't feel like walking to Pete's apartment half-naked, so he decides to call him and ask for a ride. Which would have been a good idea if his phone was still functional, and if the back pocket his phone was in had still existed.  
"Great," he mutters to himself, kicking at a rock on the side of the road.  
He spots a gas station and he sprints across the street so as to be seen by the minimal amount of people, and he slams through the door, causing a cacophony of startled bells to sound.  
The cashier looks up in surprise and his eyes widen in concern when he sees Frank.  
"Hey, man, you okay?" he asks, reaching under the counter for what Frank hopes isn't a gun because that is just what he does not need.  
"I need a phone," he gasps in reply. He's not tired from his run, but the absurdity of the situation is doing quite a number on his anxiety levels and he can feel his throat beginning to close up.  
The cashier nods and walks around the counter, pulling a flip phone out of his pocket and cautiously handing it over to Frank.  
"Thanks."  
The cashier nods in acknowledgment.  
He dials Pete's number, thanking the heavens he remembers it. He listens to the ringing and sighs in relief at Pete's sleepy, "h'llo?"  
"Oh, Pete, thank god."  
He hears stirring over the line and a click that could be a lamp turning on.  
"Frank?" his friend’s voice is slurred by sleep and confusion.  
"Yeah, Pete... I really need you to come pick me up."  
"Are you okay?"  
Frank sighs. It probably isn't a good thing to bring up over the phone, especially with the owner of said phone watching him like a hawk.  
"Just pick me up at the QuickMart on twelfth avenue okay? I'll be waiting out front."  
"Okay," Pete hesitates.  
"Oh! And can you bring me a robe?"  
The line is silent and Frank thinks Pete must have hung up ready until he hears a cough over the line.  
"Are you sure you're okay?"  
"Yeah, dude," Frank lies, "just come quick okay?"  
He hangs up and hands the phone back to its owner, thanking him again and thanking the universe he hasn't had the police called on him yet, before going to wait outside the gas station. Sitting on the sidewalk, he has time to think over what is happening to him. So far, his most likely theory is that he had been drugged. Maybe someone had slipped him something at the coffee shop? But then why is he suddenly void of asthma. Either way, he's really freaked out and that's on top of the freaking out that has already been happening about him missing his exam. And shit, Brendon is probably worried sick.  
He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He feels like he's in the beginning of some cheesy horror movie like Moon of the Wolf. As soon as that thought enters his brain though he freezes, because that actually is exactly what this is like. The 'wild dog' attacks, walking home alone and waking up naked in the woods, his asthma being suddenly cured. His mind races and he begins to panic even more. He's a freaking werewolf! He knows that it’s a really crazy conclusion to jump to but he has this feeling in his gut that it’s just right. Like his body already know what it is and it’s just waiting for his brain to catch up.  
He's snapped out of his minor freak-out by Pete pulling up in his car, jumping out and rushing over to the shorter man.  
"Holy shit, dude you are definitely not okay! What happened?!"  
"I don't wanna talk about it," he says because he really doesn't. At Least not until he's taken a really hot shower.  
"Frank..."  
Pete's face is full of concern and Frank sighs for what must be the twentieth time that day.  
"Later, Pete," he says, "I promise."  
His friend nods and they get into the car, Frank wrapping himself in the white, cotton robe that Pete has brought for him. The short drive to the apartment goes by in silence and for that Frank was grateful. He doesn't think he could handle a conversation right now.  
Five minutes later they're at the apartment.  
"Is Patrick home?" Frank asks, weary.  
Patrick is Pete's roommate and he is the sweetest guy you'll ever meet as long as you don't piss him off. He also has a tendency to play caretaker anytime one of his friends is sick and being smothered is really the opposite of what he needs right now.  
"No, he's got class right now," Pete says, pushing the door open, "I'm supposed to have class in like an hour but I can cancel."  
"Thank you, Pete."  
Frank is thankful to have someone like Pete in his life. Someone who knows how to roll with the punches, because he knows what ever is happening he won't be able to get through it alone. He's barely able to handle a change in his class schedule let alone a change in his DNA. And while Brendon helps him in other ways, he tends to freak out about stuff like this just as much as Frank so he's just really glad he has Pete.  
"I'm guessing you wanna take a shower?" Pete asks from the kitchen where he's rooting around the refrigerator, "there are towels in the hall closet and I'll find you some clothes you can where instead of that robe."  
"Thanks, that'd be great."  
Pete hums in acknowledgment. "And then we are sitting down at this table and talking, don't think you're getting out of it."  
"Okay... Oh, hey!" he says, "Will you call Brendon and tell him I'm alright?"  
"Dude I already did on the drive to get you. We were both worried as fuck when you didn't show up for the exam this morning."  
Frank groans. "God I can't believe I missed the fucking exam."  
"I'm just glad you're okay dude."  
Frank makes a noise in agreement, though he's already dreading his best friends thinking he's crazy when he tells him he thinks he might be a werewolf.  
He makes his way to the bathroom and turns on the shower as hot as it will go without literally melting his skin off. While the mirror starts to steam up, he strips of what is left of his clothing, mourning his favorite pair of jeans. Though that really is the least of his worries right now.  
The shower was exactly what he needed and he felt a million times better by the time he was done. It felt nice to not be wearing a forest-worth’s of dirt.  
There was a knock at the door, so he secured the towel around his waist and opens it to see Pete with his arms wrapped around a change of clothes. When his friend sees Frank, his eyes widen.  
"Dude," Pete laughs nervously, "when did you get a six pack?"  
Frank has no idea what he's talking about, and so he looks down at himself in confusion to find a toned chest and stomach with a slight six pack. Last time he had checked, he was a pretty lanky dude, so this is disconcerting to say the least.  
"Umm... I don't know?"  
"Okay we really need to have that talk," Pete said, eyebrow raised.  
"Just let me get dressed. I'll be out in a second."  
His friend nods and hands over the clothes, turning to head back to the kitchen. Once Frank is dressed, he ventures out of the bathroom and back into the kitchen and is greeted by the smell of pancakes. It makes him realize just how hungry he is and his stomach growls viciously.  
Pete points to the table where there are two plates, both with a stack of pancakes.  
"Talk and then food," he says and Frank almost whines. He feels like he's about to pass out if he doesn't eat something how is he supposed to get through this conversation?  
He sits down anyways and Pete joins him, taking the seat on the opposite side of the table.  
"So," his friend says, "what happened?" He has his eyebrow raised expectantly, but concern still shows on his features.  
Frank sighs and starts from the beginning. He goes through walking home alone to waking up in the forest with no recollection as to how he got there. He tells him about the thing in the bushes with the golden eyes and how he sprinted for a mile without having an asthma attack.  
His friend has sat through the whole story with an unreadable expression on his face and Frank is prepared to be laughed at or possibly sent to a mental institution. It’s when he tells him about his theory that he may be a werewolf that he reacts, and Frank is ready to either be laughed at or sent to a mental institution. He probably deserves both.  
"A werewolf?" Pete exclaims, his tan face the perfect picture of shock. "You got turned?"  
"You mean you believe me?" Of all the reactions Frank expected, this was probably the last on his list.  
"Of course I do, Frankie," he smiles, "you're not the only wolf I know."  
He says it with such nonchalance that Frank is sure he's misheard him. How could his best friend know a werewolf and not tell him? Pete knows Frank loves stuff like that, he was born on Halloween for Christ's sake!  
"You're saying you know a werewolf?"  
"Yeah, sure," Pete says with a shrug, "You technically know him too. It's that Gerard kid that work's at the coffee shop you always go to. The one you have that huge-ass crush on."  
Frank blanches. Is Gerard the one who turned him? He was at the same coffee shop, had he followed him out? Frank hopes not, he's always found Gerard kind of cute so that would suck if he has to hate him on principle.  
"Do you have his number?"  
"I don't... Sorry, Frank," he says with regret before perking up suddenly, "Oh! I do have his brother's number though!"  
"Can you call him?"  
"Yeah, yeah, I'll go do that right now! See if maybe Gerard can come over or something."  
Frank nods and lets out a breath. It’s just his luck that the guy he had had a crush on is some creature of the night. Though, to be fair, so is Frank now. He starts on his pancakes to offer up some sort of distraction while Pete was on the phone with Gerard's brother and also because he's hungrier than he's ever been, ever.  
By the time Pete comes back to the table, Frank has finished his pancakes and Pete's pancakes. He smiles at his friend sheepishly.  
"Thanks for breakfast."  
"Yeah, I'd say so," Pete says with a fond smile. "Anyways, Mikey says Gerard is on his way. Should be here in about ten minutes."  
"Cool."  
"Is there anything I can get for you?" Pete asks.  
"No I'm fine. Thanks though, Pete." Anything Frank needs now is not anything Pete would be able to provide him with. For example, a time machine so he could go back and take that fucking exam.  
"No problem." Pete replies with a shrug. "As long as you're sure you don't need anything. I've got Tylenol, booze, orange juice... dog treats..."  
"Oh, you asshole!" Frank exclaims, laughing in indignation.  
"Hey, just saying. You are part dog now."  
Frank's laugh dies and he suddenly feels very serious. He is part dog now. His entire life iss changing and he has no idea what to do about it.  
"Pete..." he looks up, "I'm scared."  
His friend rushes over to the other side of the table and envelopes him in a hug, softly petting his hair. It calms Frank down slightly but a hug can only do so much when you're entire world is falling apart. He feels guilty when he feels himself wishing Brendon was here with his superhuman ability to calm Frank down.  
"Hey, Frankie it'll be okay. Gerard is gonna help you through this, I'm gonna help you through this, and Brendon and Patrick are too. You have a whole group of people who would do anything for you and we're gonna do our best for you."  
Frank is definitely tearing up. "Thanks, Pete."  
The ringing of the doorbell breaks them out of the hug and Pete instantly is back to his hyper mood. He jumps over to the door and swings it open, revealing a rather anxious looking Gerard. Which is not very comforting because Frank is the one who is supposed to be anxious.  
"Gerard! It's great to see you!"  
"Hey, Pete," Frank hears the black-haired barista say, "is he...?"  
"He's in the kitchen."  
Two sets of footsteps pad into the kitchen and Frank waves when Pete and Gerard turn the corner.  
"Hi, Frank, Mikey told me what happened... I'm sorry."  
Frank narrows his eyes. "So you're saying you didn't already know? I mean, you were there the night it happened."  
"Frank!" Pete exclaims, "Come on man, he's here to help you."  
"Yeah, okay," Frank agrees slowly, but he didn't miss the flash of guilt that had flickered across Gerard's face.  
"Okay, so I'm going to give you a basic rundown and then you're gonna ask any other questions you have, alright?" He waits for Frank to nod before sitting down to continue.  
"Alright so there are two main packs in Jersey, The Academy and The Cobras. I myself used to run with the Cobras before a couple of us split off due to certain... disagreements... and made our own pack. Anyways, people are turned by being bit by a werewolf in wolf form and, sorry, there is no cure as far as I'm aware. Once made a werewolf, you're pretty much cured of any physical disabilities and you grow physically stronger. You have an improved sense of sight, smell, and hearing, and you can run way faster. Werewolves are forced to turn on the night of the full moon and can turn the night before as well, but I wouldn't recommend it because it is excruciatingly painful. It appears that's what whoever turned you did, though most turnings happen on the full moon. And um... that's about the gist of it, so yeah... any questions?"  
"Uhhh..." Frank was having a hard time soaking up all this new information, let alone thinking of anything else he might need to know. Especially because the way Gerard moves his hands when he talks and the way he talks out of the one side of his mouth is so mesmerizing. Frank has no idea how he was able to pay attention as much as he did.  
"That's okay, I'll give you a few minutes to think it through."  
Frank thinks about it and the only thing he's caught up on is why he was turned in the first place. From what Gerard had said, someone had put forward the extra effort to turn a night earlier just so they could get to him. Before today, Frank didn't even know werewolves existed so why would one have such an apparent personal grudge against him? Also, what was that look in Gerard's eye like he knows something?  
"You know something," Frank decides to say. "You know something about who turned me."  
Gerard winces. "Yeah, I think I might."  
Frank raises his eyebrow in expectation, waiting for Gerard to continue. There is a low, burning hope in his stomach that Gerard didn't have anything to do with this because otherwise he'd have to come to the conclusion that there is a God, and that God hates Frank. The taller man runs a hand through his greasy black hair and there's a nervous sort of tension about him. A blush has settled lightly on his nose and Frank's heart leaps without his permission at how pretty the older man is.  
"Okay... so, there’s this guy I used to know. His name is Bert, and he used to be able to change the night before a full moon relatively painlessly. Atleast, as painless as changing can be. Apparently there’s a legend that wolves who share a certain lineage can do a bunch of weird things. Anyways, Bert came into the coffee shop the other day, trying to talk to me about something but I couldn’t understand any of it he was kind of all over the place. I did hear him mention your name though which I thought was weird. I sent him away though, I didn’t want to talk to him. He’s part of a life I’m trying to leave behind. If there’s anyone who could’ve turned you last night though, he’s the only one I can think of. "  
Frank stares in shock for a moment. "Oh."  
"I know, Frank I’m so sorry I didn't mean for this to happen to you I...-" Gerard is flailing his arms around and looking around the room as though he is literally searching for the right words to say. It’s the cutest thing Frank has ever seen so of course he takes pity on him.  
Frank places his hand comfortingly on the older man's arm. "Hey, no, it’s okay I know it wasn't your fault. Just... why didn't you warn me or something we had like a thirty-minute conversation yesterday?"  
Gerard winces. "I didn't think you were in danger! I wasn’t even sure you were the Frank he referred to. Besides, I was trying to forget I had seen him in the first place.”  
"Yeah, well apparently I was in danger!" Frank snaps back. He can feel the frustration fueling the fire underneath his pot of anger, "and now I have to deal with it for the rest of my life!"  
Gerard looks like he's in utter despair and Frank internally kicks himself for getting so carried away. Yeah, it was a little bit Gerard's fault but he didn't do it on purpose. He doesn't deserve to be yelled at. Frank's still mad at him but seeing Gerard sad just makes him feel guilty. God, he's so fucked.  
"Frank, I'm so sorry," Gerard pleads. The look in his eyes is so desperate and vulnerable that Frank feels his heart shatter. He hates himself for not being able to stay mad at the barista just because he has some stupid face that makes Frank's heart do fucking backflips. Frank decides maybe he might consider forgiving him maybe. In fact, Frank decides he might do just about anything to keep Gerard from looking so desperate.  
"Fuck, I forgive you," Frank says, “As long as you help me with this werewolf shit."  
Gerard nods his head rapidly. "Of course, Frankie."  
Frank pretends his heart doesn't skip a bit at the nickname.  
Pete claps his hands onto both of their shoulders. "Well! I'm glad we've got that all worked out," he says with a wide grin, obviously trying to relieve the tension, "Gerard I'm gonna assume you have a place for him tonight?"  
"Tonight?" Frank asks. Then it hits him, "Oh... crap."  
Tonight is the full moon. Sure, he'd known that, but his brain hadn't quite processed the fact that maybe ten hours from now he will be howling at the moon. He's going to literally be a wolf. Oh God, he's gonna be sick.  
"I have a cage in my basement from when I first turned. My mom bought it for me. It kind of sucks but it's safer than running without a pack, especially newly turned when you have less control of your instincts."  
"But can't I run with your pack?"  
"I'm sorry, Frank but that wouldn't work."  
"Why not!? It's practically your fault I was turned don't you owe me this?"  
Gerard sighs and runs his hand through his hair again. It's beginning to stick up all over the place.  
"You don't understand, Frank. It would be dangerous for you and everyone in my pack. You and my friends aren't familiar with each other so it isn't guaranteed you'll be recognized as friend rather than foe once we've all turned."  
Frank admits he can kind of see where that may be a problem.  
"What about next month?"  
"Well we'll have to wait until we get there but I would be glad to have you," he says with a smile. "In the meantime, do you want to come to my mom's house to see the cage? And also maybe we could stop somewhere to get lunch?"  
"That'll work," Frank says with a sly smile.  
They stand up from the table and head out to Gerard's car. Pete's "you kids be safe!" is heard just before the door slams shut.  
“So I’m meeting your mom, huh?” Frank asks teasingly, “Don’t you think you should take me to dinner first?”  
Gerard blushes and stumbles over a reply, visibly giving up before turning and getting into the car. Frank follows, smiling.  
Maybe this won’t be so bad, he thinks to himself.

\----------  
They arrive at Gerard's mom's house in Belleville and Frank is blown away by how normal it looks. It’s a medium sized house and it’s made from red bricks just like half of the houses on this street, and there's a small set of stairs leading up to the front door. There is nothing that makes it jump out at you or could possibly make you suspicious about the people living inside. He realizes Gerard wasn't born a wolf, nor has his mother ever been a wolf, but it’s just hard to associate something so normal with the man he is getting to know. Although he has to admit it gives him some sort of hope that he can maintain normalcy in his life even with this bitch of a curveball. They walk up to the door and Gerard knocks a few times before letting himself in. The door makes a small squeak.  
"Gerard, is that you?"  
Frank looks up at the voice and sees a blonde woman, maybe in her late forties or early fifties come into view and he immediately recognizes it as Gerard's mother. The family resemblance may not be the most striking but it’s definitely there.  
"Hi, Ma" Gerard says as he goes over to hug her warmly, then he gestures over his shoulder, "This is my friend Frank. He uh... well we were wondering if the cage is in working order still."  
Frank knows he's being paranoid when he waits for the disgust to show up on the woman's face (her own son is a wolf for God's sake and she doesn't seem to mind) but he's still relieved when he only sees mild surprise.  
"So i'm assuming you either ditched another pack or Frank is newly turned?"  
"Gosh Ma, have some faith. I'd have to really hate myself to fuck it up with the House of Wolves."  
Frank is surprised by how much Gerard seems to tell his mother, but he's also completely not surprised at the same time. In the short time he's been here, it’s easy to see they have a close relationship. That’s when Frank realizes he's probably going to have to tell his own mother eventually and his blood turns to lead and his stomach starts slowly creeping up his throat. He can't believe it took him this long to realize because now that he has, he can't seem to stop thinking about it. He's aware of the other two continuing their conversation but he's practically frozen with dread, thinking up the many, admittedly unlikely, scenarios where he is disowned by his own mother.  
"Frank?"  
Gerard's voice snaps him out of some trance his anxiety had induced and he feels pretty embarrassed about that. It’s pretty obvious he had said his name multiple times by the amount of concern of the older man's face.  
"Yeah, um, sorry I just... just thinking." God, he's so pathetic. And he's terrified at the prospect that there are some people this might alienate away from him.  
"Oh honey, I think he's a bit overwhelmed. Why don't you take him out to eat and I'll make sure everything is set up down in the basement."  
Frank is jealous of how okay Gerard's mom is with this whole situation and he realizes how stupid it is but he can't help it. Or maybe he's jealous of how easily he's able to talk to her about it; as easily as they might talk about what they need for groceries this week.  
"Alright, Ma, we'll be back in a few hours."  
Gerard gives his mom a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before placing a comforting hand on the small of Frank's back and leading him to the front door.  
"Be safe, boys!" calls out Donna before the door closes behind them. Frank instantly relaxes which he feels kind of guilty about. It’s not like he dislikes Gerard's mom, he just can't help but wonder at everything she does whether his mom would do the same.  
They get back into the car and begin driving. The first few minutes pass in silence and Frank doesn't know how he feels about it. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, but he kind of wants to be able to distract himself from... well pretty much everything happening in his life at this point in time. Unfortunately, he also feels he'd be lousy in a conversation right now as that requires concentration and for some reason Frank realizes he's fucking hungry. Like so hungry he's beginning to feel lightheaded. Thankfully, Gerard chooses that moment to turn on some music, probably having accepted that conversation isn't looking likely right now.  
The music takes a bit of an edge off of Frank's anxiety. Especially when he realizes it’s David Bowie and he's left to wonder how cool one person could be. Like, Frank already knew Gerard was adorable but now the guy also has an amazing taste in music? It's almost not fair how fucked Frank is.  
Shortly, they pull into a plaza and park in front of a Denny's. Frank is a bit skeptical at the other man's choice in food but when he conveys this with his eyebrows, Gerard just says, "Trust me." So he does.  
There are about ten other people in the restaurant so they're seated immediately to a booth in the front corner. Frank wrinkles his nose at the mysterious stain on the seat's vinyl and carefully climbs over it, sighing when Gerard just shrugs his shoulders and sits right onto it. Franks hunger has grown impossibly the second the smell of food had reached him and he feel like he could eat like five cows. Never-mind he's been a vegetarian for three years.  
Their server, Amelia, takes their drink order, Gerard getting a coffee and Frank sticking with water. Frank is just opening up the menu to find something filling yet vegetarian friendly when Gerard puts out a hand to stop him.  
"I think we're ready to order," Gerard says to Amelia who nods and Frank very much is not enjoying being treated like a child.  
"Uhhh… I'm not," he says to Gerard quietly but, mysterious as ever, he just replies "Trust me." So Frank crosses his arms, sits back against the bench, and he does (with minimum pouting). He's not sure why he does, but it doesn't feel wrong for him to. In fact, it feels very right for him to trust Gerard, the man who he officially met earlier today, even though he is known to have slight trust issues. The only people before today he would ever trust were Brendon, Pete, and his mother. Though he would not trust Pete to order his food for him he's learned that lesson twice.  
"Okay, so we'll have two orders of the endless buttermilk pancakes and six sides of sausage links. You might as well start off bringing us two plates of pancakes each we're both rather hungry."  
Gerard smiles at the server as he hands her the menus and she looks slightly flustered, whether that's due to Gerard's charm or the insane amount of food he just ordered is anyone’s guess. After Amelia walks away Gerard turns to talk to Frank and that’s when he realizes how close they're sitting. It’s one of the round booths in the corner that can easy seat five people so there's really no excuse for their thighs to be pushed together. Not thank Frank is planning on scooting away but now he can't stop thinking whether or not it was on purpose. Until he's forced to stop thinking about it because Gerard is talking to him and God he hopes he didn't space out again.  
He clears his throat, "Sorry um, what'd you say?"  
"I was just making sure you're okay with pancakes and sausage."  
Frank stares kind of dumbly for a second before realizing Gerard must not know he was a vegetarian. He's sure he can remember mentioning it at least twice to the older man at the coffee shop because he remembers Gerard saying how he wished he had the self-control for it. Maybe he forgot?  
"I’m a um... vegetarian?" He didn't mean to say it like a question but honestly his proximity to Gerard was making him kind of nervous.  
Now its Gerard's turn to stare kind of dumbly.  
"Frank... you're a wolf now. You can't be a vegetarian, at least not on the nights of a full moon."  
"Oh." He guesses that makes sense although it’s just another way this curse is stealing him from himself. "Why not though?"  
Gerard turns in the booth so that he's sitting cross-legged and facing Frank. He looks slightly distressed when he says, "Okay so I don't want this to freak you out okay?" Frank nods and he continues. "Okay, so as you know, every full moon those of a lycanthropic nature are compelled to change. It isn't a sudden change though. It's not one second you're human and then 'poof!' the next second you're a wolf... it doesn't work like that. Instead, each and every cell has to change. Your bones contract and elongate, your skin grows fur, your DNA rewrites itself, and your metabolism goes way up, hence the endless pancakes. Now, you won't be able to do this without proper protein, iron, and vitamin levels and unfortunately, eating other animals is the quickest way to get those into your system. Well, to be fair, you can still transition without it it’s just extremely painful. Like so painful you would probably be wishing for death. So yeah..."  
Frank has to admit he is just a bit freaked out. The pain aspect wasn't something he had considered and now he finds himself not just dreading the transition but fearing it as well. All he knows is he's definitely eating that sausage.  
"Makes sense," is all he says and Gerard nods, turning back around so he's sitting normally again and their thighs are once again pressed together.  
They pass a few minutes in silence and Frank spends it picking at his chipped nail polish. He really ought to repaint them sometime soon. One of his fingers has nail polish kind of in the shape of a wolf if you look at it from the right angle and Frank is trying to decide if he's only seeing that because of his current situation. It’s when he's just decided that, yes, it’s passable as a wolf with three ears when the food arrives.  
It really is a lot of food, but as soon as Frank sees it all laid out in front of him, he knows without a doubt that he'll be able to eat it all. Plus more. He immediately pulled one of the plates of pancakes towards him, covering it in blueberry syrup, seeing Gerard do the same with the maple out of the corner of his eye. Neither of them said a word as they made their way through the pancakes, finishing them off in what couldn't have been more than five minutes. Frank then eyed his two sides of sausage, a total of eight links, speculatively. He couldn't deny he very much wanted to eat them yet a small part of him was still a little disappointed at the prospect of breaking his three-year streak. He noticed Gerard staring at him softly, apparently already done with his two plates of the sausage. Frank sighs and picks one up tentatively, rolling it around in between his fingers. The smell makes him stomach jump eagerly and he's slowly losing his self-control. Squinting his eyes shut and reminding himself this is just for one night a month, he takes a bite. And ohmygod that’s so good. The other seven links are gone in the next two minutes and Frank can't even feel guilty because it felt so satisfying.  
"Ready for round two of pancakes?" Gerard says from beside him, looking slightly amused.  
"Yeah dude, I've never been this hungry in my life."  
The older man nods. "This should last you a couple hours. We'll have to pick some stuff up on the way back to my mom's house for you to eat a little later. My mom will have food for you tomorrow morning but we might have to pick up some Tylenol for you," he clears his throat and looks down at his hands, "my uh... my mom stopped keeping pills in the house a while ago."  
Frank decides to leave that obviously touchy subject alone for now and instead decides to focus on the fact that he's going to be alone in a cage all night as a different species. He's been thinking about it quite unavoidably for a while and there are just a few points he can't get past.  
"So I'm going to be a wolf, right?"  
Gerard looks vaguely confused by this question, which he guesses is fair but it’s not his fault he's somewhat lacking in conversation skills. "Yes?" He looks at Frank with an expression along the lines of 'do you have a point?'  
"So like wolves are loud right? Won't one of your neighbors hear me howling at the moon or something and try to call animal control on me? I don't want to like, wake up half-naked in some random animal shelter somewhere."  
"That’s a valid concern, but you don't need to worry about it," Gerard dismisses it with a wave, "we got the basement sound-proofed. Even the little window barely allows any noise out you'll be fine."  
Frank nods and feels a bit better but his mind is still slightly racing while he figures out what else he needs to ask.  
"Frank," Gerard says firmly, tilting his chin up so he can look him in the eyes which did not make him blush thank-you-very-much, "it’s going to be okay. Like I said-"  
"Trust you," Frank finishes for him, slightly breathless.  
"Yeah," Gerard smiles, "trust me. I've been doing this for like, ten years."  
That's when Amelia comes over to check on them, asking them if they're ready for the bill. When Gerard requests another plate of pancakes each, she looks slightly horrified, which Frank can't help but let out a little laugh at.  
Franks laughing increases when Amelia walks hurriedly away, almost as if she's escaping. Gerard looks at him kind of funny but Frank can see the amusement hidden behind it. It takes him a good three minutes to pull himself together.  
"Dude she was terrified of you."  
Gerard rolls his eyes, "you're so dramatic."  
"No dude, honestly. How do you do this every month? You should be some sort of urban legend by now."  
"Pancake Man," Gerard says wistfully, almost as though he's thought about it before countless times, and it sends the younger man into another fit of laughter.  
"I usually go to the Ihop down by my friend Ray's house. My pack usually eats there together and then Ray's backyard opens up into the woods. His sister works at the Ihop so it’s a lot less foreign for her to see one person eat so many pancakes."  
"Is your pack there right now?"  
"Yeah, they should be. I'm meeting up with them at Ray's after I drop you back off... why do you ask?"  
"I just feel kind of like an asshole for keeping you away from them."  
"Frank," Gerard says, frowning a bit, "if I weren't here to help you, you'd be all on your own. My pack can handle being without me right now and, well, to be frank, you really can't."  
"You did not just make that pun."  
He shrugs, "it just kind of happened."  
Frank rolls his eyes. "Thank you though. Really, I appreciate everything you're doing for me." He feels like such a sap saying it but he really needs Gerard to know how much he appreciates him.  
"It's no problem, Frankie."  
Frank blushes pretty hardcore at the endearment and he feels Gerard's hand squeeze his and then stay there. The older man is definitely holding his hand right now. Frank was gathering up the courage to do something drastic like hold his hand back when Amelia and her stupid face come back with their pancakes and Gerard lets go. Stupid Amelia. He's hungry though, so he doesn't waste any time in starting on his second helping of pancakes.  
After they have finished off their third and final plate of pancakes, Gerard waves down their red-headed server and her look of utter relief when Gerard asks for the bill has Frank cracking up again. He's barely recovering when they get back into the car.  
"So where to now, Pancake Man?"  
"Walgreens, Asshole," he replies with narrow eyes.  
"Let's do it."  
So they stop at a Walgreens on the way back to Donna Way's house and they get Frank his Tylenol as well as a very large blanket, some turkey jerky (Frank's idea surprisingly enough), and a squeaky dog toy (very much not Frank's idea).  
The sun is just nearing the horizon when they arrive back at the house and Frank is on edge. Getting out of the car, he looks up at the moon and the hair on the back of his neck stands on end. Its weird how he's never noticed before how beautiful the moon is. Of course he's always been aware of the moon and appreciated it, but honestly its fucking magnificent. He refuses to believe its just because if the wolf thing, everyone has to be able to see that. Its right there in front of them. He wants to howl at it. It's at that moment Frank feels his first sparkle of excitement. It bubbles up inside him until he's giddy, almost high on moonlight.  
"Alright, Mr. Happypants," Gerard says, resting a hand on Frank's back and leading him towards the front door. "Let's get you inside before you turn right here."  
Frank is to blissed out to object, but that doesn't mean he understands why they're going away from the moon. This concerns him enough that he decides he's going to voice it to Gerard, but when he turns to tell him the words fall away into confusion about the look of absolute concern on Gerard's face. It's gone in an instant and Frank's moon-muddled brain forgets about it just as quickly, instead focusing on how close Gerard is.  
"You're standing very close to me," Frank giggles.  
"Yeah Frankie, I am."  
Frank doesn't know how Gerard can look so grumpy when the moon is right there, but he decides not to think about it, instead letting his head fall back to rest on the older man's shoulder so he can look up at the moon while he's led up the stairs.  
The sobering he feels when he steps into the door is immediate and disorientating. While he still feels slightly warm and fuzzy, he can think a lot more clearly and that allows him to be thoroughly embarrassed. He decides the solution is pretend the past five minutes didn't happen and hope Gerard does the same.  
"We all set up downstairs, Ma?"  
"All set up for him, sweetie," she stands smiling at her son for a moment before dragging him into a hug, "Oh, I'm so proud of you!"  
Gerard is obviously flustered and it makes Frank feel less self-conscious about his own embarrassment.  
"Alright Ma, I kind of gotta get going." he mumbles into his mom's shoulder. He pulls away and mumbles again, this time too quiet for Frank to hear, but he swears he sees them both glance over to him and his mother nods quickly before shoving him to the door.  
"Alright, get going then."  
Gerard obeys, but stops at Frank first giving him a big, squeezing hug. "You be safe," he whispers in Frank's ear before pulling away and patting him on the shoulder. "Bye Ma, love you," the older man calls over his shoulder before slipping out the door, presumably rushing to get to Ray's before sundown.  
"Love you too, sweetie." His mom calls after him. Then she turns to look at Frank warmly, "Come on downstairs, Frank. I have everything all set up for you." He follows her.  
The basement is slightly musty, but it has wooden flooring and bookshelves lining some of the walls, most of which were empty, though there were a few remaining books, movies, and comics. Frank had a sneaking suspicion this was Gerard's old room. He really does seem like he would be the kind of kid who finds it super cool to live in a basement. He smiles at the thought, though when he catches a glimpse of the cage, the smile is gone in an instant.  
The cage is big about as big as a restroom. About tall enough for him to stand up in, and wide enough for him to lay down in, plus a foot extra because of how insanely short he is. His blood is turning to ice at the thought of being cooped up in there for hours. He can feel the moon tugging at his skin, willing him to just run out and let whatever happens happen. But he knows he can't. If he ended up turning some other poor bastard he'd never forgive himself.  
Sighing, he steps into the cage and allows Mrs. Way to lock it up from the outside. The process includes a two deadbolts and a chain.  
"Try and make yourself comfortable and call for me if you need anything. I'll leave the door open until sundown but after that it stays closed to avoid getting animal control called on me."  
"Alright, um... thanks, Mrs. Way."  
"Call me Donna," she says with a motherly smile, "and don't you worry. I'll see you tomorrow okay, Frank?"  
Frank nods and Mrs. Way mirrors the action before turning around and heading back up the stairs, leaving the door open as promised. He turns around and surveys the space. There are two bowls in the corner containing water and what looks like shredded chicken, presumably for after he's turned, as well as three water bottles and a box of granola bars. Frank has still got the blanket he just bought tucked under his arm, and so he decides to spread that out so he can just lie down and wait. He isn't too sure how much longer it is until sundown, and the window doesn't give much help, especially since looking through it just intensifies the fuzziness in his head and the pull on his skin. Why didn't the moon seem to affect Gerard the same way it did Frank? Maybe it’s because of how newly turned Frank is? But that doesn't explain the look of concern the older man gave him. He's really only just realizing that maybe he should be nervous about that. What if something goes wrong and Gerard isn't here to help him?  
This thought keeps circulating through Frank's mind, eventually causing him to hyperventilate in anxiety, though that gives way to a sharp cry of pain and an audible snap from his spine. Oh fuck, its starting.  
He wouldn't call the pain 'unimaginable' but it was pretty fucking intense. He imagines this is what it feels like it be drawn and quartered. He can feel the muscles in his arms and legs stretching out and condensing into new shapes, his bones following suit. His spine begins making deafening pops and for a terrifying moment, he's paralyzed. Although a short time later, he is able to continue spasms in pain as he begins to feel the fur pushing through his skin and actually sees his nose stretch out in front of him. Eventually, it’s over as suddenly as it stopped and he takes a few moments to lay there, breathing deeply. At least that parts over with.  
Looking around the room is weird. Everything looks exactly the same but so different. He can see the way the moonlight filters in through the window and dances over every surface, calling out to him. He calls back. In the back of his mind, he notes how weird it is to hear that howl coming from his own mouth (well, snout) but he's too focused on why the moon is so far away to really think about it. Instead, the same giddy feeling from earlier rushes back to him except this time, everything seems a little clearer, rather than a loopy haze. It's like the moonlight goes straight to his brain and sets it on overdrive, allowing him to hear Mrs. Way turning the pages of her book upstairs, and to smell her freshly brewed coffee, to smell her. Familial. Good smell.  
He pricks his ear when he hears footsteps from out through the window, approaching from across the street. He drowns out the sounds of the town- cars, airplanes, babies- and focuses on the footsteps. They feel important. Slowly, they make their way closer until a face pops up in front of the window. A wolf. Mother. The presence of this wolf rips a series of desperate howls from his chest and he begins to slam against the edge of the cage. Something about the silver-furred wolf he'd caught a brief glimpse of had compelled him even stronger than the moon and now he's urgently needing to get out.  
The cage suddenly feels so much more suffocating and he continues to howl and throw himself against the side until his body aches and the sky has gone darker and consecutively lighter. It must have been hours. He knows the other wolf- Mother, she'd been his mother somehow- had only been there for a few minutes but he's still disappointed when he cannot sense her presence. He whines and lays down, watching the sky grow slowly lighter until he feels the familiar crack in his back except this time it’s so much worse. This pain definitely, unquestionably, certifiably, qualifies as unimaginable. It doesn't take long for him to pass out.

\---------  
Frank is getting pretty tired of waking up feeling like his head is being hit with a thousand tiny hammers. But alas, this is exactly how he feels when he wakes up the morning after the full moon. He had been half expecting to find himself in a forest half-naked, but whatever he's lying on is way too comfortable to be anything but a bed. He takes stock of his surroundings- as much as he can without sitting up because ouch- and realizes he's still in the basement when he sees the tiny window across the room.  
He jumps when he feels a hand on his arm and turns to see Gerard looking down at him with concern. How he made it to the side of the bed without Frank noticing is a mystery. Maybe he’s a vampire? Except he’s definitely already a werewolf. But what if a werewolf happens to get bit by a vampire? Are vampires even real? Frank ponders these questions seriously, and decides to ask Gerard.  
"Hey," he says to the older man, or more accurately croaks, as apparently his voice is not currently working. He decides to bring up the vampire business at a time when he can effectively use his larynx.  
"I brought you some water."  
Frank sits up- his body is not happy with that decision- and takes the water eagerly, letting it soothe his throat. He sips at it until the glass is empty and then Gerard gingerly takes it from him and sets it on the bedside table.  
"Better?" he asks.  
"Much," Frank replies with a nod. "So uhhh... how was your um... yesterday?"  
"It went well," he answers simply, a look of concern still plastered across his face.  
"Is something wrong?"  
                                             
Gerard's distress is obvious and it’s making Frank nervous for obvious reason. The man is running his hand through his greasy black hair, eyes closed. He doesn't know how long he just kind of sits there waiting for him to talk but it’s longer than he'd like. It’s hard to keep himself from considering every worst case scenario. Like what if Frank is dying from some weird complication or some part of him didn't turn back to human and now Gerard is figuring out the most comforting way to tell him. He must be starting to freak out a little because Gerard's hand is back on his arm now, rubbing soothing circular patterns into it.  
"Hey, Frankie, it’s okay. It’s just... we have some things to talk about is all. Nothing too bad but I'll be honest with you, nothing extremely good either."  
"Right, well that’s settling." he says dryly.  
Gerard rolls his eyes. "Look, I'm just going to go ahead and say it, okay? There’s something... different... about your wolf form. My Ma said you turned an hour earlier than I usually did- which, okay, happens sometimes- but then she said you stayed turned until eight in the morning. Frank, that’s hours passed when most wolves turn back. And then the moon sickness you felt was pretty odd because I've never seen it happen during daylight hours before and you had it so bad." He takes a deep breath, fingers running through the mop on his head probably for the hundredth time that day. "I wasn't really concerned at first, just confused, but then I saw the cage."  
This piques Frank's interest. Not that it hadn't already been piqued; he has had a ball of anxiety slowly growing throughout the entire conversation. Better said, this piques Frank's curiosity, as he has no idea what Gerard is referring to. Of course, as soon as he looks over to the cage, he has a pretty good idea. In fact he would probably bet a large sum of money on just what Gerard is referring to.  
On the side of the cage facing the window, the bars of the cage are very noticeably bent outwards. Closest to the window, they're almost bent in half, and one of them looks as though it may have actually snapped. Also apparent, the roof of the cage sort of bends down in a diagonal line due to the now uneven bar lengths. Basically, the once cube-shaped cage now more closely resembles a crumpled-up-piece-of-paper-shaped cage. Passed the bent bars are a couple sets of claw marks raking across the floor. When his brain makes the connection that he did that, it sends a shiver up his spine.  
“Oh,” is all that Frank can say.  
“We’re gonna figure this out, Frankie,” Gerard says comfortingly, running his palm up and down Frank’s arm, “Is there anything else… weird you remember from last night?’  
“You mean other than the fact that I was a wolf?” Frank scoffs in dry humor. He sighs at the look Gerard gives him and thinks back to last night. It comes back to him in flashes; fragments that could be minutes or hours apart. Finally something catches his attention and he has no idea how he could have forgotten the figure he’d seen outside the window. Mother.  
“What?” Gerard snaps. He looks confused and almost scared and Frank realizes he must’ve spoken something out loud.  
“I saw a figure outside the window last night. Another wolf I think. She didn’t stay for long and she just kind of sniffed around before she took off again. I… I don’t know why but when she left I was heartbroken. I think that’s when I busted up the cage. I wanted to find her. I know I’ve never met her before, she had an unfamiliar smell but she felt so familiar. She felt like Mother.”  
When Frank is done speaking he meets Gerard’s eyes and is met with a look bordering on terrified. It definitely does nothing to help Frank’s nerves.  
“Oh, Frank…” the older man runs his hand through his hair- probably for the hundredth time that day- and looks around anxiously before speaking again- “I have a story for you that you probably won’t like, but I’m gonna need you to just shut up and listen.”  
“Okay, Gerard.” He agrees nervously, even though all he really wants to do is hyperventilate because Gerard is really starting to freak him out.  
“Okay. So, basically this is lycanthrope folklore. The older wolves like to tell it to the younger and newer members to freak them out but it’s also kind of accepted as truth. It’s our creation story. Us, being werewolves. It tells of Mother,” Frank inhales sharply at the name, “and how she came to create our species. She was a practicing witch who meddled in dark magic, and she came across an immortality spell. Of course, being human, she became obsessed with completing it. Life in return for life, the spell called for the sacrifice of an animal. The more spirited the animal, the more effective the spell. Mother decided to set a trap for the wolf who had been attacking her livestock. It took a couple tries, but finally, she had him. So, on the night of the next full moon, the spell was chanted and the wolf’s life was taken with a silver dagger, and Mother was granted immortality. There was a catch, of course. As she would soon discover, a curse had been put upon her and her children, and all her children’s children. Every full moon, they would become the life that had been betrayed and live as wolves. Silver would be deadly to them and they would obey the moon. Mother saw what a burden had been placed on the Earth so she killed all of her sons, though she was unaware of the unborn baby living in the womb of her youngest son’s mistress. He grew up to turn tens of wolves, who in turn, turned hundreds more. Overcome with guilt over what she had done to the earth, she now spends her immortal life setting rules for the wolves to live by, and wiping out any wolves who disobey them. Many believe her to be a myth, and many treat her like a god. If Mother is paying visits to you, you can believe things are about to get interesting.”  
Frank tries to absorb what he’s just heard. It sounds like the backstory to atleast three different books he’s read. Though he’s not sure if that adds to or takes away from the story’s credibility. Also, if the story is true, what would the creator of werewolves herself want to do with Frank.  
“What does any of that have to do with me?” he asks, not quite sure he wants to hear the answer.  
Gerard takes a deep breath and looks positively nervous when he answers, “Legend says that one day, a war is to come. A war between nature and the selfishness of man. Apparently,- and this is where I would guess you come in- Mother is to choose a hero two years before the start of the war. A child of the moon yet not born of wolf, someone who will lead her troops in the war for the world.”  
Frank has no idea how to react. He considers pinching himself in the arm just to make sure he’s awake, but he doesn’t want to look stupid in front of Gerard. Not anymore than he already has anyways. He could feel proud, honored that out of everyone he was chosen to lead a fucking werewolf army. He could feel pissed off that he’s going to fail Humanities over this, or relieved that atleast he doesn’t have some weird disease. Instead, he decides on finally getting to that emotional breakdown that has been pending all morning and starts hyperventilating.  
The world begins to blur around him and he knows it’s gonna be a big one. He hasn’t had a full-blown panic attack since freshman year of college but he still remembers exactly how it feels and it feels exactly like this. He can barely make out Gerard’s voice calling out what has to be his name, but it sounds like they’re at opposite ends of a tunnel. He feels movement and the solidity of the bed appearing beneath him and then the solidity of what must be Gerard appearing beside him. Arms wrap around his torso and he tries to let them anchor him and it helps but it’s not quite enough. The panic is still gripping at his chest, like it’s giving an Indian rug-burn to his heart. Then Gerard starts singing. He’s too out of his mind to recognize the song but it’s soothing either way. He can feel the suffocating feeling that had been drowning him begin to ebb away until his breathing finally begins to even out. Once he surfaces, he notices the older man is petting his hair, and that’s definitely a Morrissey song he’s humming. Frank feels the familiar worn-out feeling he usually gets after an episode and he knows it won’t be much longer until he drifts off. He knows he’ll be unbelievably embarrassed about falling asleep in Gerard’s arms when he wakes up but for now he can’t bring himself to care.  
When he wakes up the room is noticeably brighter and he’s alone again. He looks around the room to confirm this and notices a pile of clothing on the chair next to the bed. There’s a note on top and so he pulls himself out of bed to read it.  
‘Went out to pick up some dinner, didn’t know whether you needed clothes so I left these out just in case. There’s some coffee in the pot upstairs feel free to pour yourself a cup.  
Xoxo,  
Gee.’  
   
He decidedly ignores the ‘Xoxo,’ as he is nowhere near functioning enough to think about what it means. Instead he quickly changes into the sweatpants and Rancid t-shirt that Gerard left him and makes his way upstairs. A glance at the clock shows it to be five in the afternoon which means his sleeps schedule is going to be so fucked up for the next couple of days. He locates the coffee pot next to the microwave, next to the sink, and he pours himself what’s left in the pot. He decides to drink it black rather than rummage through Gerard’s mother’s kitchen for the sugar and takes a seat at the kitchen table.  
He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but by the time the front door opens to produce Gerard and his mom, the half a mug of Frank’s remaining coffee is lukewarm. The two Ways make their way into the kitchen and join him at the table where Gerard produces two take-out bags from Taco bell. Frank’s stomach rumbles as soon as the smell hits his nose.  
“Someone’s hungry,” Mrs. Way laughs with a wink towards Frank.  
“You try being a wolf for ten hours and then not eating for eight more,” Frank mumbles in embarrassment.  
Mrs. Way’s eyes twinkle playfully, “You boys have fun, I’m gonna head to bed cause I’ve got an early flight to catch tomorrow morning. Love you, Gee.”  
Gerard smiles. “Love you, Ma. Sleep well.”  
She ruffles Gerard’s hair on her way to the hallway where she disappears.  
Gerard slides one of the bags towards Frank. “I got you three cheese quesadillas and the little cinnamon bite things. Carbo-loading is the main goal the day after the full moon so you’re good to go on the whole vegetarian thing again.”  
“Good,” Frank says as he digs into the bag. They eat in a comfortable silence, though it doesn’t last long because as Frank is starving, his food is gone within five minutes. Gerard is halfway through his third taco when he has finished and Frank waits quietly until he’s done. It’s not that he has nothing to say, he just doesn’t know where to start. So, he waits until Gerard is willing and able to start a conversation. Even if that means the silence turns just a little awkward.  
When Gerard has finished his final taco and wiped his hands off with a napkin, he speaks. “So,’ he says, “I have the opening shift at the coffee joint tomorrow morning and my ma is leaving, so I figured it’d be best to drop you back at your apartment so you won’t be alone. You have a roommate right?”  
“Yeah, his name is Brendon.” Frank replies, and it’s almost as if the utterance of his name makes Frank realize just how much he misses the asshole.  
“Okay,” Gerard nods, “So I’ll drop you off at your place tomorrow morning around four-thirty- early I know, very sorry- and then I was thinking later I could pick you up again and I’ll introduce you to my pack over lunch. I get off at one so around two maybe?”  
“Yeah, that sounds good.”  
“Good,” Gerard smiles. “You might try to get to bed soon. I know you just woke up but you’ve go to get up early tomorrow and I’m thinking you aren’t quite rested up anyways.”  
“Yeah, I’m still pretty fucking exhausted.” Frank says truthfully.  
“Yeah. You can sleep in my bed again and I’ll grab the couch. There’s a shower in the basement’s bathroom and there should be a clean towel on the back of the door if you want to freshen up.”  
“Thanks, Gerard,” he says, standing up from the table and dropping his trash into the trash can.  
“No problem, Frankie. Sweet dreams,” Gerard replies with a smile.  
“You too.”  
With that, Frank heads back down the stairs and into the bathroom to take a shower. He wasn’t even thinking about taking one until Gerard mentioned it and it just sounded too relaxing for Frank to pass up. So, he gave himself a steamy fifteen minute break from the world that left him smelling like Gerard’s Old Spice shampoo. He threw the same sweatpants and t-shirt from earlier back on and left the bathroom in a puff of steam. When he crawls into bed, there’s a glass of water on the table by the bed that wasn’t there before and Frank smiles at it. He doesn’t usually like being babied but when it’s Gerard he can’t find it in himself to complain.  
It only takes ten minutes of him staring at the ceiling to drift off into sleep for the third time that day. He really was fucking exhausted. He doesn’t dream of anything particularly odd and it’s actually a much more peaceful sleep than he expected to have with the amount of anxiety that seems to have become a part of his daily life.  
It’s three-thirty in the morning when he’s shaken awake by Gerard. And even though over the course of the last nineteen hours he’s been asleep for seventeen of them, he want nothing more than to roll over and maybe grab ten more hours.  
“Go away,” he mumbles into the pillow.  
“Aw, Frankie, come on there’s coffee upstairs and you can sleep more when you get home,” Gerard replies, way too fucking awake for three in the morning though he probably has caffeine to thank for that. When Frank doesn’t respond, the older man starts tugging on the blanket, letting cold air into Frank’s sleep-warm cocoon. The bastard.  
So, Frank grips a corner of the blanket and throws himself to the side, effectively rolling himself into a burrito and flinging himself off of the bed. His humorous is the first to hit the ground and he whimpers dramatically, though atleast he has protection against the potential hypothermia Gerard doesn’t seemed too concerned about giving him.  
“Frank, you are literally five years old,” Gerard says in exasperation, though Frank can hear the amusement in his voice.  
Frank thinks that was a pretty hypocritical thing of Gerard to say when the older man starts dragging him across the floor by the blanket. He makes it all the way to the stair case before he stops, obviously at an impasse.  
“Ha, what now, bitch,” Frank gloats in triumph, but Gerard just narrows his eyes at him before he proceeds to drag Frank up the stairs. It takes getting hit in the head three times before Frank gives in. “Alright, I’m up, I’m up! No need to give me a fucking concussion.”  
He wrangles himself out of his blanket cocoon and wraps the blanket around his shoulders instead, following Gerard up the stairs. The smell of coffee that greets him helps to wake him up a fair amount but he still hates the world.  
He plops himself down at the kitchen table and Gerard brings him over a cup of coffee. “You’re welcome, Sleeping Beauty,”  
“Thanks,” Frank mumbles before downing half the cup, burning his tongue in the process. Gerard takes a seat across from him and pulls out his phone and they sit in silence for the time it takes Frank to finish his coffee. When his cup is empty- maybe five minutes later- Gerard gets up and takes it over to the sink, rinsing it out. Neither of them have broken the silence yet but it’s not uncomfortable. In fact, it’s almost… domestic. Frank doesn’t know how he feels about that and decides to not think about it.  
“We ready to go?” Gerard asks, “I’ve got your clothes in a bag in the backseat already. Kind of figured you were gonna be a grumpy morning person.”  
“I am not grumpy!” Frank protests, crossing his arms, and quickly uncrossing them when he realizes he’s inadvertently proving the other man’s point. “I’m just… offended that New Jersey has the audacity to be so cold right now.”  
“Like a toddler in desperate need of a nap,” Gerard teases, shaking his head at the apparent shame of what he’s describing.  
Frank just grumbles to himself and gets up from the table, finding his shoes next to the door and slipping them on. When he sees that Gerard has followed him to the door he gestures for him to lead the way, and they exit the house. He still has the blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he stands in the too goddamn cold winter air with one hand on the passenger-side door handle, waiting for Gerard to dig his keys out of his pocket. Finally they’re in the car and Frank immediately turns the heat all the way up.  
Gerard rolls his eye. “Drama queen.”  
Frank sticks his tongue out at the other man and holds his hands in front of the vent to warm them up. He gives Gerard directions to his apartment and they listen to Bowie for the ten minute drive there. Frank really likes that he never feels pressured to fill the silences when he’s with Gerard. They can just drive in silence and it isn’t awkward. Not that Frank doesn’t enjoy conversing with Gerard, he really does, but it’s always nice to have those people you can just exist with.  
Not much later, Gerard pulls into Frank’s complex and he gets ready to face the cold for the ten seconds it’ll take to get into his lobby.  
“I’ll see you at two,” Gerard says with a wave.  
“See you then,” Frank nods, and rushes into the safety of the heated building.  
The second Frank is inside his apartment, Brendon fucking tackles him.  
“Frankie ohmygod I was so worried! I can’t believe my best friend is a fucking werewolf ohmygod I missed you so much I haven’t seen you in like two day! Two days, Frankie! I had no one to rant about Ryan to!” Brendon stops his rambling only to press several wet, sloppy kisses to the side of Frank’s face.  
“Dude! That’s so gross get off!” Frank shoves at Brendon who sits up off of Frank and begins pouting while Frank wipes his face off on his sleeve.  
“Why won’t you accept my love, Frankie?”  
Frank rolls his eyes. “You’re so gay.”  
“I know!” Brendon replies with a smile. “Anyways, you have a lot to tell me you big furball!”  
Frank gives Brendon his best death glare but recounts everything from the past couple of days anyways. He starts from the very beginning, leaving the apartment to go cram study, and walks his way through waking up in the forest, calling Pete, calling Gerard, Ihop, being a fucking wolf, waking up the next morning- He decidedly leaves out everything about Mother, not really feeling up to talking about it-, and then waking up this morning.  
“Aw poor Frankie,” Brendon says once he’s finished recounting his tragically early morning, “You never were a morning person.”  
“Speaking of which, why are you up at the ass-crack of dawn?”  
“To greet you, of course! Gerard got my number from Pete and called last night to let me know he was dropping you off around four and I was already planning on pulling an all-nighter so it just kinda worked out!”  
Frank has no idea where his friend keeps all this extra energy he seems to have. Of course, the caffeine addiction seems to help but even with coffee Frank can’t imagine willingly staying up all night on a weekday. School just takes too much out of him.  
“You’re crazy, Bren.”  
He just shrugs. “Wanna binge all the Harry Potter movies?”  
Frank doesn’t know why he agrees when all he wants to do is grab a couple more hours of sleep, but he’s glad he does. He really has missed Brendon. He knows it’s only been two days but it’s felt like two weeks and his hyperactive best friend was glaringly absent during the abundance of breakdowns Frank has had. He’s so used to having Brendon there for his episodes, having to deal without him really kind of tore at his heart.  
So they settle onto the couch with what snack food they have in the pantry- a bag of tortilla chips and a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch- and Brendon half watches the TV and half rants about Ryan while Frank half watches the TV and half listens to Brendon rant about Ryan. It’s comforting to do something so familiar after the last couple days he’s had. He can almost forget he was turned into a werewolf by the creator of all werewolves and may possibly have to lead her army sometime in the relatively near future.  
Halfway into the third movie, Frank falls asleep sprawled across Brendon’s lap. He dreams of greasy black hair and weirdly small teeth and it’s the best he’s slept in the last two days. He wakes up about ten minutes into the sixth movie and the clock reads one-thirty-seven in the afternoon. He considers the possibility of Brendon not being human when he looks over to find him still awake. He doesn’t have class until four today but he’d bet anything he doesn’t even try to get sleep before going in.  
“Dude, did you know you drool?” Brendon asks, looking down at him with a playful expression.  
He’s about to protest but when he lifts his head, there is a very apparent string of saliva connecting his mouth to Brendon’s thigh where he had fallen asleep. “Uhm.”  
“I know, I know,” Brendon says, raising his hands in mock surrender, “I understand this hot bod makes your mouth water. It’s not something you can control, I should be more considerate.” He places his hand over his chest. “From the bottom of my heart, I truly am sorry for being so irresistible.”  
Frank can’t help but to crack up laughing. He grabs the nearest pillow and chucks it right at Brendon’s face, eliciting a yelp from his best friend. “Fucking asshole, oh my god,” he says through his laughter.  
“Deny it all you want, Frankie! I know you’re in love with me.” Brendon wriggles his eyebrows in faux seduction.  
“In your dreams, Urie.”  
“Only the wet ones.” His friend replies with a shrug.  
“You’re unbelievable. How are you still single? How has Ryan resisted you for so long?”  
At the mention of Ryan’s name, Brendon immediately gets a dreamy look in his eyes. He lets out a long sigh and looks to the ceiling. “Ryan is unfazed by my beauty for he sees a beauty much greater every day in the mirror.”  
Frank is speechless for a few moments because that was actually kind of poetic. Not that he would ever admit that to Brendon. “You’re so fucking gay.”  
Brendon refocuses his gaze on Frank and raises an eyebrow, “Must be the best thing to ever happen to you. I can only imagine how hard it would be to be in love with a straight boy.”  
“Alright, Asshole, I’m gonna go clean up real quick before Gerard gets here. He’s taking me to lunch to meet his pack.”  
Brendon glances at the clock and sits up a little straighter. “I should probably follow suit. Ryan should be here in like thirty minutes; we’re going to lunch before class.”  
“Good luck, dude,” Frank says, rolling off of the couch and heading to his room.  
Brendon sighs. “Yeah, I’m gonna need it.”  
Sometimes Frank wonders if Ryan must be straight. Brendon has been lusting after the literature/music double-major since the beginning of the semester and until Frank had met him, he had been convinced he was straight. It never took Brendon more than a week to get someone to go on a date with him once he put his mind to it. In fact, only one person had ever taken him as long as a week and it was Frank himself, but they’ve both agreed to agree that never happened. So, when it was a month into the semester and Brendon still hadn’t been able to score a date with Ryan, Frank figured the guy was straight. Then, Frank met Ryan and immediately changed his mind. The guy had been wearing suede skinny-jeans, a vest, and like three scarves. Franks doesn’t particularly pride himself on having the best gaydar ever, but Ryan definitely set off some alarms.  
It could just be Ryan’s pretentiousness. Don’t get him wrong, he thinks Ryan is a cool dude, but anyone who thinks their unique for listening to The Beatles takes themselves just a tad too seriously. Though to be fair, Frank had thought he was unique all through high school for listening to the Misfits and Black Flag.  
Frank ends that train of thought before he is forced to remember high school and instead focuses on picking out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He ends up going with the cleanest pair of jeans he can find lying on his floor and a Joy Division t-shirt. He grabs his jacket off the back of the door and calls out a farewell to Brendon, figuring he’ll wait outside so he can grab a quick smoke.  
He almost changes his mind when he finally steps outside the lobby and is reminded of just how cold it is. It has, however, been more than two days since he’s had a smoke so there really isn’t much that could stop him at this point. Especially now that he has super-lungs or some shit since he’s been turned.  
His fingertips are going numb by the time Gerard pulls up in his old Trans Am. He considers for the hundredth time if the added dexterity of fingerless gloves is worth the hypothermia as he puts out whats left of his cigarette and hops into the passenger seat.  
“Hey, Frankie,” Gerard greets warmly.  
“Hey, Gee.”  
“Gee, huh?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.  
“Oh uh… would you prefer if I didn’t use that name or…?” Frank trails off, slightly embarrassed. He remembers hearing that name used quite often for the older man but he probably shouldn’t have assumed it was okay for him to use.  
“Oh no! I’m okay with it, it’s just the first time you’ve called me that is all!” Gerard rushes, putting his hands out in a placating gesture. Gerard is very cute when he’s flustered, and it makes Frank forget completely about his former embarrassment.  
“Oh. Yeah, I guess it is,” Frank turns to pull his seatbelt across himself and click it into place. “So, Gee, where to now?”  
The smile Gerard gives him is blinding as he begins to pull out of the parking lot. Frank doesn’t know why he didn’t see it coming when he replied with “The good ol’ International House of Pancakes!” Gerard must really have a thing for pancakes.  
When they get to the Ihop, Gerard’s pack must already be there because instead of waiting to be seated like the sign says, he waves to the hostess and heads to the back of the restaurant. Frank follows him to a booth where four guys around Gerard’s age are already sitting, waiting.  
“Hey, Gee’s here,” one of the guys say, and when Frank looks at him, recognition sparks in the back of his mind. It takes him a while to place, but once he does it has him crawling bodily over the heavily-bearded man sitting on the outside so he can get to the familiar blonde.  
“Bob!” he exclaims excitedly, not waiting to see if Bob recognizes him to wrap himself around Bob in a tight hug. He can feel the slight hesitation before Bob remembers and hugs Frank back just as tightly.  
“There’s no way that’s you, Frankie,” Bob says, ruffling Frank’s hair, “I haven’t seen you in ages.”  
“Where do you know him from?” Asks Gerard, now seated across the table from where Frank is now seated in Bob’s lap. Though he covers it well, there’s an obvious shade of jealousy in his voice that makes Frank warm inside.  
“We were in a band together in fucking high school and then this asshole decided to go to college in Chicago.” Frank replies, still in Bob’s lap, “Fucking missed the fucking asshole.”  
“I missed you too, Frankie. Now get off my fucking lap you are not as light as you were in high school.”  
Frank sticks out his tongue at him but still slides off his lap so that he’s now sitting in-between Bob and the bearded man he crawled over. In hindsight, it might not have been the best first impression to give someone, but he didn’t seem upset so Frank figures he didn’t offend the guy or anything.  
“So Gee, who’re the rest of your friends?”  
Gerard perks up at the question and clears his throat. “Right. So, directly to my left,” he motions to the guy sitting beside him, a dude in an Anthrax t-shirt and an afro, “is Ray, and then to his left,” a brunette with possibly longer-than-necessary sideburns and tattoos covering his forearms, “is Brian. You already know Bob, obviously, and then James is the guy you just gave a free lap dance. We call him Dewees though because back in Cobras there were two other James’s.”  
“Cool,” Frank says with a nod, looking around at everyone, “It’s good to meet you all.”  
A chorus of ‘You too’ rings out from around the table.  
“So,” Frank starts, “I’ve been dying to know. What’s with Gerard and pancakes?”  
To the great displeasure of Gerard, they end up conversing about Gerard’s strange pancake obsession for the next ten minutes, leaving a slightly irritated Gerard to order drinks for everyone, meaning everyone gets coffee. Ray is just getting into a story about he and Gerard’s senior year of high school when Gerard filmed a ‘Pancake Report’ for his media class, when suddenly everyone’s head at the table turns to the door.  
It’s something straight out of a movie and Frank is honestly pretty creeped out. That melts into confusion though when he follows their affronted stares to the door to see Brendon and Ryan. How their presence could insult a table of werewolves, Frank has no idea.  
“Um… guys? Why’re you staring at Bren and Ryan like that?”  
“You know them?” asks the one introduced as Ray.  
“Yeah, the shorter one is my roommate,” Frank says and this seems to make Ray relax, if infinitesimally. When he glances back over at Brendon, they meet eyes and Brendon immediately perks up, dragging Ryan across the restaurant to their table, much to the chagrin of the hostess who had been trying to seat them. Ryan has his eyes glued to the floor in embarrassment -probably a common occurrence with how much time he spends with Brendon- and when he looks up, his eyes widen comically and he yanks his arms away from Brendon, now frozen three yards away from where they all sit.  
“Ryro, what’s wrong?” Brendon asks Ryan, confusion and concern plastered across his face.  
Ryan stutters for a moment before making a retreat, quickly walking with his head re-glued to the floor all the way across the restaurant, not stopping until he had exited the front doors.  
“Ryan, wait up!” Brendon shouted- yes, shouted- across the restaurant before following the taller brunette outside.  
Frank is utterly confused. He’s met Ryan before, and he isn’t usually so intimidated by other people, especially stranger. That and the guys’ obvious recognition of him convinces Frank that Ryan must know them. But how? No matter how he looks at it, he can’t find a comforting explanation. After a few minutes, he realizes someone is calling his name and he must have drifted off.  
“Sorry Gee, what was that?” Frank says, looking across to his friend and trying his best to ignore everyone’s gaze on him.  
“Do you know the taller guy? The one who ran out?” he asks.  
“Um… yeah? We go to school together and my roommate, Brendon, sort of has this huge ass crush on him. How do you guys know him?”  
Everyone at the table looks back and forth between each other and it’s obvious that none of them know what to say. Finally, after what feels like atleast ten minutes of tense silence- interrupted only by their server coming to take their order- Gerard sighs and leans forward against the table and- yup, you guessed it- running a hand through his marginally-less-greasy-than-usual hair.  
“He’s… a vampire.”  
Frank admittedly probably should have seen something like that coming. Though, he considered the possibility of Ryan being a werewolf for a while but he was over for an all-night movie marathon just last month on the night of the full moon. If anyone he knows were to be a vampire though, it would have to be Ryan Ross. Or maybe William Beckett, but that’s another story.                    
“So like…” Frank starts, “Do vampires and werewolves have some natural beef with each other or…?”  
“Not… exactly,” Gerard answers, “Ryan is from the Young Veins, a vampire clan based in Chicago. They’re on the more aggressive side of things when it comes to inter-species relations. We don’t have any personal beef with Ryan other than him being the son of the Young Vein’s leader, but it is certainly disconcerting to see him in Jersey.”  
“But like… doesn’t sunlight kill them?”  
“Oh Frankie,” Gerard says. “You have so much to learn.”  
“Yeah, apparently.”  
That’s when their food finally arrives- everyone got pancakes- and the conversation pauses for the time it takes them to finish their food. Frank tries to process the events of the last hour while he eats his food. Ryan Ross is the apparent son of a vampire mob boss from Chicago and Bob, who Frank hasn’t seen in like five years, is suddenly back in his life and is a werewolf. He doesn’t even really taste the pancakes as he eats them, too wrapped up in his thoughts. It’s only once he’s done eating and breaks from his trance to get a sip of his water that he becomes aware of the conversation around him.  
“All I’m saying is that if werewolves are practically forced to stay out of Chicago, they should atleast stay out of fucking Jersey,” Bob says in a huff from besides Frank.  
“What do you mean forced to stay out of Chicago?” Frank butts in, “Is that why you’re back in Jersey?”  
Bob seems to soften a little when he’s addressed by Frank. It makes sense, they had been each other’s only support systems for a while going through high school. Frank had always been able to do the impossible in helping Bob control his temper and even after five years, Frank knew Bob being at this table was playing a factor in his ability to maintain his composure.  
“I was born in Chicago, as you know, and, as you also know, lived in Jersey for about four years before moving back. Well, around this time two years ago, I came to visit some family in Jersey and I ended up going to a concert with some cousin thrice-removed and he ended up turning me I guess. A month later, back in Chicago, I turn and get picked up by the Young Veins. Wake up in a cage, I’m given the whole spiel about Chicago being their territory, and I am informed of the consequences that may arise from staying there. I tried reaching out to my dick of a cousin who turned me but he wouldn’t answer any calls. Basically, I overheard Gerard and Mikey in a coffee shop talking about ‘the next full moon’ and took my chances. I don’t know how or why I was so fucking lucky but…”  
Bob trails off, probably before he gets too sentimental and embarrases himself. He never was one for sappy moments, unless it was Frank.  
“So is Jersey werewolf territory?” Frank asks to try and cut Bob a break.  
“Yeah, you could say that,” the answer comes from Dewees this time. “Jersey has two major packs and twenty plus smaller ones. Most other states have one major pack if theyre lucky and ten smaller ones at most. I don’t know what it is about Jersey, but wolves just tend to like it here.”  
“Huh. So I guess it is a pretty weird place for Ryan to be hanging out.”  
“Yeah, pretty much,” Dewees agrees.  
“I could try talking to him if you want?” Frank asks, looking around to all the other faces, :I mean we know each other pretty well.”  
“…I don’t know, Frankie,” Gerard hesitates, “You’d have to be super careful. Remember you can only turn on the full moon, but a vampire is always a vampire. While you may be stronger than you were before, vampires can do all sorts of weird shit.”  
“Aw, come on Ryan wouldn’t hurt me, he’s in love with my roommate!”  
Five skeptical faces stare back at him.  
Finally, Gerard caves. “Fine, just be careful, okay Frank?”  
“Please. Careful is my middle name!”  
This doesn’t do anything to change the skepticism but Frank ignores them. He starts thinking about just how he’s going to initiate the conversation with Ryan, and he thinks the rest of the table starts talking about Batman. Eventually, Gerard scoots out of the booth to let Ray and Brian out so they can head home. This inspires Dewees to head out too and it’s only five minute before Frank, Bob, and Gerard and standing up as well. Frank thinks Brian had taken care of the bill, grumbling something about always having to play the manager, so he made sure to leave a couple dollars for the tip.  
Bob was parked at the other side of the lot, so they shared a solid five-minute hug right outside the door.  
“See you soon, okay, Frankie?”  
“Yeah, Bob, I’ve really missed you,” Frank replies, definitely not choking up.  
The exchange a couple manly back-pats and then they disengage, sharing a warm smile and “catch-you-later’s before going in opposite directions.  
“So you know Bryar, huh?” Gerard asks him as they head back to his car.  
“Yeah, we were kind of each other’s shoulders to cry on.”  
Gerard nods.  
“So… do you think they all liked me okay?” Frank asks.  
“Who, my pack? Frank they fucking loved you,” Gerard replies smiling, “I’ll talk to them about it later but I’m almost positive you’ll be able to run with us next month.”  
Frank smiles back and feels a warmth in his chest. Ever since he was turned, he felt the tugging desire in his brain to belong and at lunch with Gerard’s pack, it felt like he could do just that.


End file.
